Continuing the Feminist Rant

Since Leigh already began the feminist posts, I decided to just continue on with the same subject. Let’s be honest, there’s a lot to cover. A lot. At this rate, we may never veer away from feminism.

Maybe I should start off with defining what feminism is. There are still people today who have the misconception that feminism includes getting rid of males as a whole and ALLPOWER to women.  And yes, people still believe that. In eighth grade, I had an adult comment to me:  “Feminism? Are you sure that you know the true meaning behind it?” And then went on a little ‘explanation’ that feminism meant over powering males of society and having it women’s way. And guess what? At that time, I believed him. (And to this day it still pisses me off that I fell into that trap.)

That is not the definition of feminism. Feminism means to fight for the rights and equality of females, and those who identify with the female gender. No, it does not mean we want to round up all men and chop off their balls. Of course, extreme feminists might want that, but the average feminist today wants equality of the sexes– which is as pretty damn important as balls. (Well, that is debatable since you only need balls to procreate…)

Now, let me go on. I’m gonna tell you guys a little story that I experience at least almost every day at work:

I work at a farm stand that sells flowers and produce. Currently, there are a whopping six of us that work at this farm stand. On a weekend, there are four of us – the owner, me, my sister, and another girl. The owner is an elderly woman who really just works the register and isn’t there on the weekdays; I’m 17; my sister is 15, and the other girl is in her mid-20s. On any day, we have to help customers by getting planters or bags of mulch and bringing these items to their car. That or we’re restocking and rearranging produce.

Wet bags of mulch (or dirt) isn’t light. Boxes of peppers and bushels of corn (which carry 52 ears of corn) are heavier than you think. Guess who carries this stuff all of the time? Us girls.

Now, when any of the guy workers show up (which they do, multiple times a day because they bring us stuff from the farm), they do not let us carry these things. Let me repeat: do not let us carry these things. Reason being?

“It’s too heavy.”
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You shouldn’t be carrying that.”
Bullshitbullshitbullshit.

I’m not complaining that these things are heavy; working there, you get used to it. When I first started working there (a good three years ago), I had trouble lifting stuff. Now I can do it no problem because I built up muscle. I became stronger by moving things myself, when the guys weren’t around.

Even if a guy happened to work with me, I still wouldn’t let him do it. As Leigh said in the previous post, yes, technically girls are physically weaker than guys are. It’s just a fact, and there’s nothing we can really do about it at the moment. But just because something is ‘heavy’ does not mean that I can’t carry it.

The sad part about all of this is that the guys are really sincere. They don’t say these things because they think I can’t carry stuff, they just don’t want me to. They feel better about carrying it themselves. Which honestly, I get, but wouldn’t you want someone else to help to cut your work load in half?

Seriously. What do they think I do when they’re not there? Not lift it? And if it is too heavy, two of us pair up to do the job. We get it done, without the guys help. And let me tell you, we’re damn good at getting the job done.

I’ve even pointed it out to them: “I can carry this; I do it when you aren’t here!” And their best response is: “Well, I’m here now.” Honestly, just stop right there.

I love these guys, but I go through this every day. Because I don’t listen to them when they say “I shouldn’t” because I can.

This isn’t as heavy of a topic as Leigh’s post, but it’s just something I’ve wanted to write about. People need to realize that it isn’t only the big things that people are aware of; it’s the little things that also need to change.

Because if a female believes that she can, I promise you that she will. 

Yours Truly,

                                     Alison “Lost in Believing”

My Feminist Rant

Okay. Let’s talk about rape.

Rape is that thing, sniffling and slobbering under the table, brushing against your leg, that no one ever wants to mention by name. No one wants to be that person that calls it accidentally out from under the table, where everyone can see that hideous smushed face and it’s beady eyes, and have to stare at it awkwardly, not knowing just what to say because really, this is polite company and who the hell brought it to the party to begin with. So you sit there, sipping your tea, constantly afraid that the thing will get tripped up in your skirt or mistake you for that one annoying loud guy at the end of the table that is always slipping it treats and bite your fingers off. I get it.

But I’m also really really tired of being told to fear something that I can’t even look in the eyes without being considered impolite. But you know who can call the thing out, even laugh at it, or make it do tricks? Guys. Guys can do that, and girls can too, sometimes, but they’re supposed to be afraid of it all the same. Girls aren’t entertaining when they do that unless they act afraid of it, too.

Dropping the analogy, I’m sick and tired of my brother being allowed to do things I’m not. It’s because I’m a girl, I know it, and I’ve been trained to be afraid of that rape-thing. My brother and I are twins, and let’s face it, girls are more mature at this age, and yet I’m not allowed to go out alone. Yet when my brother wants to it’s alright. Because he’s a big strong man, now. And while he doesn’t have enough common sense to take his phone out of his jeans before washing them, I’m the one condemned to sit trembling at home while he goes off into the world.

Upon asking to go somewhere, I will be subject to a barrage of questions. So will my brother, but the protocol similarities end there. He can go off with his friends, or to the mall alone, or to say, Gettysburg for a weekend with a couple he’s friends with. I am not allowed. The reasoning: I might get “hurt”.

When my mother says I might get “hurt”, she means raped. She does, you might think I’m assuming something wrongly, but it’s true; she’s explained it to me, and will again if ever pressed. She just doesn’t like to say the word. You know that saying that fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself? (Thanks, Dumbledore) well that’s what rape is with my mom. And I won’t kid you, she’s taught me well. I can’t walk fifteen feet from the door of my art teacher’s place to my car without clutching my bag or thinking someone’s behind me.

And it sucks. It sucks being constantly afraid. But since I’m a weak girl it’s my burden to bear.

Let’s look at the logic behind this.

Yes, girls are naturally weaker than guys in many respects. (This isn’t true in a fight between two trained fighters, but in a jump-out-of-the-shadows-rapey-rapey situation this holds true most of the time anyway)

Yes, the large majority of rapists are men, most attacking women.

Yes, I am a weak teenage girl with long hair and a slight disdain for the painted on skinny jeans fad.

Yes, 44% of rape victims are under age 18.

However:

More than 50% of all sexual assaults reported by victims occurred within one mile of their home, 1/12 in a parking garage, 4/10 in the home, and 2/10 at a friend, neighbor, or relative’s house.

In fact, 73% of rapists (from this site’s numbers, link below) were not strangers.

38% of rapes are committed by a friend or acquaintance.

The rest of that 73% is made up of intimate partners or family members.

Also, my brother (unfortunately) isn’t immune; one out of every ten rape victims in 2003 was male.

43% of rapes occur between 6PM and midnight, 24% between midnight and 6AM, and 33% in between 6AM and 6PM. So statistically I’m more likely to be raped before nightfall, since I go to school and go to bed well before midnight (I’m not a night owl).

Really, if we look at these statistics I’m most likely going to experience sexual assault at the hands of one of my friends or ex-boyfriends or a creepy uncle, in the daylight hours after school, in our around my home. My brother has one tenth of a chance of that happening to him as well. And yet these are the places and people I’m kept around to keep me safe.

Instead of taking this as a chance to become more frightened by life, why don’t we stop wasting time with that and stop teaching our daughters to be illogically terrified whenever they step out of the house. How about we teach them to be aware of their surroundings, and sign them up for karate classes when they ask instead of pushing them towards dance and getting the brother into karate which he never cared that much about anyway. How about we even let them go out more into the real world so that they develop self-reliance and don’t stress needlessly about being around strangers and new places and experiences?

I’m not saying there aren’t rapists and monsters out there to be wary of, but I’m really tired of being taught to fear everything and anything with a penis, and I don’t think it’s very fair that my life is being kept around these principles.

Motto of the story: can we just all stop raping each other so I can go out with my friends and roleplay in the woods?

Thanks,

That would be lovelly,

~Leigh

P.S. I apologize for “Rape” in the first scenario having any resemblance to certain smush-faced dogs, I’m sure your little lapdog is lovely, and that was entirely unintentional.

All statistics from http://www.rainn.org/

Sick of the Race

My friend Rachel had some interesting observations on competition in our society so I got her to let me post them. Presenting our first guest post: Rachel Silverman.

Pure competition. That is my life, and it is probably yours too.

Think about it.

You learn how to run, then you race.

(I feel like I just ripped off a Jerry Spinelli quote there. Yup, I probably did.)

When was the last time you played a game with your friends without keeping score, at least subconsciously?

And caring about looks, is really just so that your exterior can be compared with someone else's. That is what the "standards of beauty" really are, after all. Your appearance against someone else's looks. Changing who you are to stay in the running.

I have been against this since I was a toddler. I remember standing in front of our house door, arms spread out stubbornly to block my mom from leaving to get her hair dyed. I screamed, cried, threw a fit. My dad had to pick me up and carry me to my room, plopping me onto my bed and scolding me for not letting my mom do what she wanted.

I don't have a problem with people dying their hair funky colors. That's individuality.

What I do have a problem with is dying your hair its natural color to hide that it is turning grey, which is absolutely ridiculous to me because EVERYONE's hair turns grey.

That is something which I still have failed to understand:

Why girls have to endure the pain of waxing and plucking when NO ONE has perfectly shaped eyebrows. (I plucked my eyebrows yesterday and I almost cried. Not because of the pain, well that too, but also because of me doing something that I did not believe in at all. But I still did it anyway. I don't want you thinking that I'm some crazy bra-burning feminist, because I'm not. It's more than that.)

And then the traits that some people have- large breasts, long eyelashes, huge butts- have to then be mimicked and imitated.

Back to that whole thing of competition again.

But it isn't just that.

Anything in life:

Being funny is really just being funnier than others.

Being smart is being smarter than others.

Being nice is being nicer than others.

Sorry. Back to my point.

I am just really really tired with the pressures of society.

I figure: I am going to go from working my butt off in school for no reason, to working my butt off in college for no reason, to working at a job I will barely even care about just to earn that pay check? Nuh uh.

I registered on collegeprowler today, despite only being a sophomore in high school and having absolutely no desire to start planning which colleges I will be applying to. Each page of a prospective college was filled with questions of anxious students who are desperate to get in, begging to know what is that they can do to get noticed.

You need the 4.0, you need the leadership positions, you need the large array of clubs and the community service and the great teacher recommendations- this is all common knowledge. You need these things but more, you still need to stand out- to beat them. To be part of that select few to get in.

But frankly, the whole process just made me sick.

And it will continue!

It will continue from the limited admissions to being top of the graduating class to the hiring positions to the companies battling each other for the best deal.

And. It. Never. Stops.

Best wishes!

Rachel Silverman

Thoughts on Being Miserable.

Your last post got me thinking; white isn't just for cleanliness. I think that the reason it does mean cleanliness actually has a religious connotation. Whiteness is historically something only the rich (or very commonly European overlords) could maintain; most prominently in skin color. Paleness was associated with not having to work in the fields, and became desirable. When religions, especially Christianity, realized this, they attributed the paleness to things present in the "kingdom of god" and therefore Jesus and God became pale men, and light and pastel colors became prominent imagery throughout the bible to signify purity of body and spirit. Angels have white wings, the white dove; things that are inviolable and unchangeable in their holiness. That's why white=good. Because of those damn European empire-driven Christians.

Anyway, I've been giving a lot of thought lately to misery. Not necessarily because I'm miserable-haha- but because of learning things about art and what I've seen in the news in the past months. It seems to me that in many cases, misery breeds creativity.

If you look at many of the great artists-Vincent Van Gogh, Edgar Allan Poe, Andy Warhol, they've all had rough lives. Isn't the "tortured artist" one of the most known tropes of life? If you even take into consideration that the Renaissance came to be after centuries of human misery and struggle through the Dark Ages and Black Death, you'll know that this theory has some credibility. But why is that? Why does being miserable 
make us somehow better at expressing it?

One could say that being kept down will increase our will and power to escape it. This makes sense; being creative and telling stories in whichever way creates an opportunity for escapism. I know when I'm upset drawing lets me forget about everything for a little while. Expressing yourself can make you feel better. Being creative can also lead to opportunities to get away from a miserable situation for good, if it leads to a job or a new social situation that makes your happier.

J. K. Rowling started writing the Harry Potter series around the time of her mother's death. She wrote through depression and turned her personal struggle into something that benefited her in the long run. The series centers around overcoming horrible situations in life and has inspired many others to overcome their own troubles. This is a good example of how misery breeds amazing creativity. While the story idea was already in her head, her hard experiences further shaped the tale into the success it is today.

Van Gogh famously struggled with poverty and mental illness, and is now one of the most famous artists in history, his work both unique with his personal style and a great embodiment of the Impressionist movement. It was his struggle throughout his life that kept him painting and inspired many of his works, including undoubtedly those he completed during his time in institutions, which are all very beautiful.

How is it that misery can bring such inspiration and success to some, and yet destroy others? How do we have the Marilyn Mason’s and Eminem’s, who have turned their troubled childhoods into careers and art, and yet see the Adam Lanza’s? How do we know the Poe’s who struggled their entire lives and created beautiful things, and also have Jack the Ripper and Hitler dancing their ways through our history books? Is it the type of misery? To quote the show "Sherlock", "Bitterness is a paralytic." Is that what it comes down to-how we perceive and internalize our misery? Is it the amount of horrible-ness these people go through? Is there only so much people can take? This is impossible to answer, as it's probably susceptible to a person's personality. Maybe that's what makes the difference; the soil into which the misery is planted. And yet there are more artists than serial killers, more impassioned activists than abusive spouses.

Or are there? Which side of it lends insight into our natural human disposition and tendencies?

As always,
~Leigh Shine

Color – Or Lack Thereof

Let’s rewind for a moment. At the end of the summer, I went on vacation to Lake George with one of my friends. We spent four days pretty much doing what we pleased – exploring the town, tanning on the beach and swimming in the pool. Okay, scratch that - We only went to the beach one day and ended up leaving because the water was full of stuff I’d rather not step on.

That moment, though, gave me the idea for what you are reading. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and two teenage girls had nothing else to do: We tanned (not really), we laid out our blankets and we decided to sit there and talk because nothing else entertained us. It was then that I noticed something – the towels we had were really, really white.

Being the great planners that we were, we forgot to bring our own beach towels from home and ended up borrowing the hotel towels for the day. The sand-dirt that surrounded Lake George was a distinct brown-tan color (like most sand/dirt is). But on that day, that particular sand-dirt made the towels appear very luminescent. Looking at them was equivalent to staring at a blanket of snow on a sunny day.

White. it’s not even a color, if you were wondering.

Actually, there is debate about whether or not white is a color. White reflects all the color waves. My physics class touched on this last year, but I’m not very good at explaining the color spectrum. To understand this fully, I suggest that you do some research.  

Yes, I know, you probably think I’m gonna go all scientific on you. No. What I’m really trying to say is that although white may or may not be a color, it definitely has a significant connotation.

White. What does it signify? You already know what it signifies; scream it out if you feel like it.

Innocence. Purity. Holiness. The color white is everywhere.

And have you noticed that every hotel towel is white? I’ve been going to hotels all seventeen years of my life and only this summer did I realize that all of the towels are white.

Why can’t they be cerulean? Or sea foam green? Or sunset orange? Honestly, why? If I owned a hotel I think multi-colored towels would be a lot more fun.

Sheets are white. Soap is white. Bath tubs and showers are white. Paper is white. The bristles on your tooth brush are white. Without even noticing, the items you use everyday are pure. Mentally, you acknowledge that these things are clean. Hotels want their clients to think the services they provide are spotless, therefore their towels are white.

White. White. White.

We have been brainwashed to believe that the cleaner something is, the better it is. Most would agree that this is true (I mean come on, I love showers as much as the next person), but now our minds are not as open to viewing the other side. For example, if that towel has a little brown spot on it, most people automatically want to use a different one because that towel is not ‘clean.’ And for all you know, that towel has been washed over and over again very thoroughly and that little chocolate stain just doesn’t want to come off.

White is pure. Once another color interferes, we want to find something else. We just toss it to the side like it’s nothing, when it is clearly something. We are judging without trying to judge. And this, my friends, will always be a fault of humankind.

Isn’t it ironic that the thing we consider pure actually taints our minds?

                                  Yours Truly,
                                     Alison “Lost in Believing”

"The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently." -Friedrich Nietzsche

I received a new Discover magazine today-along with two solid brass swan heads, but that’s another story- and began reading one of the articles, this one about the aging brain.

Now there’s something that has always intrigued me, something that comes up in whatever I’m reading, be it YA fiction, my History notes, or, today, an article from Discover magazine. I’ll give you a hint; in the Discover article Robert Epstein writes “Recent studies suggest that the total loss in brain volume due to atrophy—a wasting away of tissue caused by cell degeneration—between our teen years and old age is 15 percent or more…”

Why did this sentence catch my attention, spurring me to run upstairs without even finishing the article and start writing this? Well because it’s pointing out something that is in our society today downplayed- the fact that as teenagers, we are in the prime of our lives. No, some of you will say; that’s when we get into our twenties, maybe even a bit after that; that’s when we have all the energy and opportunities that our parents (aka the ‘old people’ in our lives) constantly yearn for and miss. That’s what they want you to think, I say.

The truth is, despite how our lives are structured today in the twenty-first century, our bodies are made to fit the minimum lifestyle. Years and years and years ago our primary function was to survive- not become famous, or fight for equal rights or anything “meaningful” by today’s standards; we were simply to survive, and do so in the most efficient way possible. Because of this our bodies came to fit our needs, so that we reached maturity quickly, reproduced, and then were useful enough until we died a few years later so that we could contribute to the rest of the community. We still reach physical maturity very early, even earlier, some of us, because of the chemicals we are subject to today, only our lives are structured differently now. I mentioned earlier that this comes up in YA fiction and my History notes, and it’s true; it bugs me. YA fiction has young people, teenagers, in the physical prime of their lives, actually doing things, saving the world, sometimes; but only because they are subject to adverse situations that make our normal social structure meaningless. In History class I am met with the stories and portraits of men and women who have accomplished more than I ever will, some before even reaching their eighteenth birthday. Theodore Roosevelt is constantly in the back of my mind, fueling an inferiority complex- he had what, seventy two jobs and was seven times more badass than anyone alive today?

Today most of us (unless we’re among the ranks of Gabby Douglas and Missy Franklin and other exemplary badasses) have a set path that may or may not lead us to a livable, mostly unremarkable life. We go to school, for a set number of years (a set number that is getting harder and harder from which to deviate; my aunt skipped a year in high school, but I doubt most anyone in my generation would be allowed to. I wish I could do that.) then we may or may not go to college; though if we want to be “successful” and can either afford it or con the school into giving us enough money, we probably will. Then we try to graduate, and now in our early twenties, move on to searching for a job and trying to settle down with a family or something and white picket fences and blah blah blah. Our lives aren’t based on the same things anymore; in fact, human priorities have changed so much that our lives seem to be created for us. To some extent we all follow a pattern that has been formulated by the generations that preceded us.

It seems, though, that the most successful people are those that break this pattern. It’s probably been this way in all societal patterns; dissenters either die, become pariahs, or are written into history as a great mind of their generation. I suppose that’s what makes the Steve Jobs’ and Theodore Roosevelts- people who are brave enough to disobey, strong enough to take advantage of not just what certain jobs or paths offer them, but their own resources. People who take advantage of themselves, and how they are made to work, not just how our culture wants us to.

This is slightly rant-ish, but basically this is stuff that should be recognized; our technical restraints, and then those cast on us (loosely, despite our interpretation). Our lives are structured by competing schedules.

This year I’m seventeen. I hope I’m strong enough to ignore the timetables and accomplish something that means something for real.

With sincerest regards,

Leigh

The Olympics and How They Remind Us We're Alive

                So I’ve been watching the Olympics, and unlike my parents, don’t mute and ignore all of the commercials. Personally, I think that’s a generational thing; our generation, children of the information age, cannot pass up a soundbite. Especially those thirty seconds or less that aim to trick us into buying something. That’s where we are most at home; it’s like the internet.

                Anyway, so my interest has been piqued by the commercials for the new show Revolution; scheduled to come out September 17^th (because I’m sure as hell watching it. You best remember that date. And isn’t that the day after Nick Jonas’ birthday? Haha). This show is based on the premise that somehow, all the power in the world has been knocked out, throwing our information-driven world back into the dark ages. It is going to follow the path of one girl who gained her own power when everyone else lost theirs, and is now a Katniss-like badass survival machine.

                This story is not unique. Hullo, the Hunger Games, first of all. A girl, hopeless against outside events as she fights for survival? With a bow? Yes. This has been done before. The whole survival thing has been done; it’s like some ingrained human fetish. And I am definitely one of those most affected; Survivor is one of my favorite shows, Hunger Games was for a time, an obsession, anyone heard of the game Lost in Blue for DS? I’ve had it for years, and need to replace it, so I can beat it for the third time WITHOUT it freezing up on me. Survival isn’t just the aim of all living things, it’s ingrained into their conscious minds, too. And now that humans, at least most of them, don’t have to worry about it, we still return to it for entertainment.

                Why is this? Well, for one, like sex, it’s something that never gets old. It’s the essence of our existence, and nothing gives us more of a thrill. Just like the Romans, with their panem et circenses, and Panem of the Hunger Games, with their own arena. Those who are comfortable, and safe, still need to feel, to be thrilled, and this is how.

                That’s the ultimate intrigue of Revolution, and why, come September, I will be hard pressed to miss a single episode(unless the writing makes me headdesk too hard. That has been known to happen, and is severely disappointing). Not only does it offer a kickass new female protagonist, but it looks like it will be thrilling and relatable. Especially for teenagers and younger people in general. We seem to feel the survival tug the strongest, seeing as we are just reaching the primitive definition of maturity. Our minds have yet to catch up with the centuries of what we call progress that has made our world much more boring in comparison to the sudden death thrill of primitive times. It was no mistake that Hunger Games and games like Lost in Blue are aimed at and are successful within the age groups they are.

                That’s possibly something that relates to your thoughts on inspiration by water; a return to our roots, the revealing of the human essence and what is purely necessary to us. There are things, in the collective human consciousness, that cannot fade through the years. Perhaps that’s the root of all excitement and inspiration, whether it be through the suffering that reminds us of the struggle for survival, or glimpses of what we came from at the basest of levels. The things that tug at our very standard heartstrings are incredibly straightforward, if we think about them.

~Leigh Shine